Dating You / Hating You
Page 38
I lift my hands in front of me, exasperated. “Honestly, Rose, if you’re only going to complain here—where I have no power to help you at all—the money must not be the reason you’re in this job.”
She looks down to the floor, nodding for a few seconds. “I know. I know, it’s just so frustrating.”
“I get it, sweets, but you’ve got to be your own advocate. No one else is going to be that for you.”
With a small smile of thanks, she turns and leaves.
Carter steps away from the wall. “Wow, Evie. That was a bit of tough love.”
I look up at his face, at the wide green eyes behind his glasses, his clean-shaven jaw and mussy hair. It’s a good thing he’s so pretty, because the attitude is not making any friends today. “You could have added anything you wanted to.”
He considers this for a few seconds and then shrugs. “Is she sure that’s really the case? I’ve never had any sort of pay disparity.” He seems to realize what he’s just said. “I mean, obviously. I know that sort of thing happens, but . . .” He winces, backpedaling. “That sucks for her. Hopefully she’ll get it fixed.”
He can’t be serious.
“This isn’t some rare case of a mathematical error in finance, Carter. This sort of thing happens every day. It’s happened to me.”
“Really? It’s just, you seem so in command all the time, I have a hard time imagining anyone taking something that’s yours.”
He moves another step closer, leaning back against my desk, facing me. It’s so close, it’s almost like we’re friendly, or flirting, but obviously we aren’t.
“It happens in this business all the time,” I say quietly. “You just don’t see it. It doesn’t affect you.”
“It should.”
I nod. “I agree.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
I don’t miss the way he looks at my lips for a tiny beat, and it suddenly feels like we’re not talking about pay disparity anymore.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
But I definitely feel like making out with Carter right now would help lead us in the right direction.
His eyes seem to roam all over my face, and then lower; he leans in . . .
For the span of two . . . three . . . four frantic heartbeats, I think he’s going to kiss me.
“Your shirt seems intent on staying open today,” he whispers, nodding.
Startled, I follow his eyes, and sure enough my top two buttons have popped open again, leaving a good deal of cleavage perfectly visible to both of us.
“Oh.” I look up at him, feeling my cheeks heat.
I start to smile at him, but instead of leaning closer to kiss me like I still think he’s going to, he leans back, offering an unreadable expression before he turns and leaves my office.
Chapter fourteen
Carter
THAT WAS CLOSE.
If this isn’t about a bank robbery
I don’t think I want to hear it.
MC, I nearly put my face in Evie’s boobs in her office.
Okay, no, I want to hear this.
She’s so badass and straightforward.
Which is sexy and intimidating all at once, and her shirt keeps popping open.
And then I went to tell her and it was like . . . impossible to want to leave without kissing.
Dude.
Just keep reminding me she’s Lucifer.
I mean, not really she isn’t.
She’s the nicest person.
It seemed like she wanted to kiss me.
Or bite your face?
In a good way.
In a bad way.
Whose side are you on?
The side where the two of you get married and she gives birth to a fully formed toddler who draws on your bedspread with toothpaste.
Dick.
Bye.
Chapter fifteen
evie
If I thought I was angry with Carter before, now there’s humiliation thrown into the mix. Over the next couple of days, I spend entirely too much time looping back through those few seconds he’d leaned in and looked at me like I wasn’t the enemy. I must have appeared to melt in my chair.
With any other romantic failure, there’s the regret, and the replaying of the good times and bad times. Maybe there’s even the occasional awkward run-in around town because, as huge as LA is, it feels tiny. But it’s a different matter altogether to work alongside a romantic failure. To pass him in the hall, to see him at meetings, to be forced into a tiny space to plan company retreats together . . .
I get to the small conference room first and take a seat on the couch at the far end, near the windows. It gives me the benefit of being able to see Carter walking all the way down the hall and toward me—not the worst view in the world—escorting the planner from Corporate Fun!
She’s put together in a bland, anonymous way, but Carter—because he’s the devil—exudes sex. Hands in his pockets; lazy, confident stride; crooked smile. Is it more noticeable now because I’m not getting any? Probably. Or is it just how he is? His dark dress pants fit him perfectly, sitting low on his slim hips and hugging his quads. I swear I can see the outline of his cock along his thigh. His dress shirt today is a subtle blue-and-white-check pattern and seems like it was poured on him, it looks so good. When he smiles more broadly at something the planner says, his entire face lights up and somehow, he looks sweet again.
I’m ruined, I can see that now. I look bleakly out at the next few years of my life, working here or somewhere else and unable to get over my hate-crush on Carter Aaron. Or even worse, watching him with someone else. I’m doomed.
I stand when they enter, smoothing my skirt before shaking hands with the woman—Libby Truman—who already seems enamored with Satan’s Errand Boy and his stupid perfect face. As she holds on to his upper arm, she gushes about how funny he was on the walk down here.
On the walk down the hall. Thirty seconds, tops. How amazing, no doubt.
We sit, do the perfunctory explanation of what we need—and honestly, I feel like we could have had this meeting over the phone. We require someone to plan some games for the group of fifty or so people over two days. We require activities that won’t (a) make us all cringe or (b) trigger our grossly competitive natures. We require alcohol. That’s it; it’s pretty simple.
But whenever possible, people like to come to the P&D offices for meetings. It’s for the exact reason I can see Libby occasionally looking out through the glass walls of the room: she’s hoping to spot a celebrity.
Unfortunately for her, she sees only Justin, who peeks his head in about five minutes into things.
“Jett Payne is here; he’s waiting for us upstairs. Also, Kylie wanted me to let you know that she overordered for the break room Keurig, and you’re free to take a box or two home.”
Carter stands with a smile. “Thanks, Justin.”
My jaw drops.
“You double booked?” I ask him, wearing a tight fuck you smile of my own.
“I guess I did. Sorry about that,” he says, as if it were purely accidental and he’s not meticulous about his calendar. He stands, reaching forward to shake Libby’s hand. “Great to meet you, Libby. Evie can handle the rest of the discussion. And make sure she validates your parking. Looking forward to what you two have planned!”
Libby, a little breathless, overexclaims, “It will be great!”
• • •
About an hour later I wrap up the meeting with Libby—still fuming—and head back to my office while checking the rest of today’s schedule on my phone.
She looks down to the floor, nodding for a few seconds. “I know. I know, it’s just so frustrating.”
“I get it, sweets, but you’ve got to be your own advocate. No one else is going to be that for you.”
With a small smile of thanks, she turns and leaves.
Carter steps away from the wall. “Wow, Evie. That was a bit of tough love.”
I look up at his face, at the wide green eyes behind his glasses, his clean-shaven jaw and mussy hair. It’s a good thing he’s so pretty, because the attitude is not making any friends today. “You could have added anything you wanted to.”
He considers this for a few seconds and then shrugs. “Is she sure that’s really the case? I’ve never had any sort of pay disparity.” He seems to realize what he’s just said. “I mean, obviously. I know that sort of thing happens, but . . .” He winces, backpedaling. “That sucks for her. Hopefully she’ll get it fixed.”
He can’t be serious.
“This isn’t some rare case of a mathematical error in finance, Carter. This sort of thing happens every day. It’s happened to me.”
“Really? It’s just, you seem so in command all the time, I have a hard time imagining anyone taking something that’s yours.”
He moves another step closer, leaning back against my desk, facing me. It’s so close, it’s almost like we’re friendly, or flirting, but obviously we aren’t.
“It happens in this business all the time,” I say quietly. “You just don’t see it. It doesn’t affect you.”
“It should.”
I nod. “I agree.”
“So what do you think we should do?”
I don’t miss the way he looks at my lips for a tiny beat, and it suddenly feels like we’re not talking about pay disparity anymore.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
But I definitely feel like making out with Carter right now would help lead us in the right direction.
His eyes seem to roam all over my face, and then lower; he leans in . . .
For the span of two . . . three . . . four frantic heartbeats, I think he’s going to kiss me.
“Your shirt seems intent on staying open today,” he whispers, nodding.
Startled, I follow his eyes, and sure enough my top two buttons have popped open again, leaving a good deal of cleavage perfectly visible to both of us.
“Oh.” I look up at him, feeling my cheeks heat.
I start to smile at him, but instead of leaning closer to kiss me like I still think he’s going to, he leans back, offering an unreadable expression before he turns and leaves my office.
Chapter fourteen
Carter
THAT WAS CLOSE.
If this isn’t about a bank robbery
I don’t think I want to hear it.
MC, I nearly put my face in Evie’s boobs in her office.
Okay, no, I want to hear this.
She’s so badass and straightforward.
Which is sexy and intimidating all at once, and her shirt keeps popping open.
And then I went to tell her and it was like . . . impossible to want to leave without kissing.
Dude.
Just keep reminding me she’s Lucifer.
I mean, not really she isn’t.
She’s the nicest person.
It seemed like she wanted to kiss me.
Or bite your face?
In a good way.
In a bad way.
Whose side are you on?
The side where the two of you get married and she gives birth to a fully formed toddler who draws on your bedspread with toothpaste.
Dick.
Bye.
Chapter fifteen
evie
If I thought I was angry with Carter before, now there’s humiliation thrown into the mix. Over the next couple of days, I spend entirely too much time looping back through those few seconds he’d leaned in and looked at me like I wasn’t the enemy. I must have appeared to melt in my chair.
With any other romantic failure, there’s the regret, and the replaying of the good times and bad times. Maybe there’s even the occasional awkward run-in around town because, as huge as LA is, it feels tiny. But it’s a different matter altogether to work alongside a romantic failure. To pass him in the hall, to see him at meetings, to be forced into a tiny space to plan company retreats together . . .
I get to the small conference room first and take a seat on the couch at the far end, near the windows. It gives me the benefit of being able to see Carter walking all the way down the hall and toward me—not the worst view in the world—escorting the planner from Corporate Fun!
She’s put together in a bland, anonymous way, but Carter—because he’s the devil—exudes sex. Hands in his pockets; lazy, confident stride; crooked smile. Is it more noticeable now because I’m not getting any? Probably. Or is it just how he is? His dark dress pants fit him perfectly, sitting low on his slim hips and hugging his quads. I swear I can see the outline of his cock along his thigh. His dress shirt today is a subtle blue-and-white-check pattern and seems like it was poured on him, it looks so good. When he smiles more broadly at something the planner says, his entire face lights up and somehow, he looks sweet again.
I’m ruined, I can see that now. I look bleakly out at the next few years of my life, working here or somewhere else and unable to get over my hate-crush on Carter Aaron. Or even worse, watching him with someone else. I’m doomed.
I stand when they enter, smoothing my skirt before shaking hands with the woman—Libby Truman—who already seems enamored with Satan’s Errand Boy and his stupid perfect face. As she holds on to his upper arm, she gushes about how funny he was on the walk down here.
On the walk down the hall. Thirty seconds, tops. How amazing, no doubt.
We sit, do the perfunctory explanation of what we need—and honestly, I feel like we could have had this meeting over the phone. We require someone to plan some games for the group of fifty or so people over two days. We require activities that won’t (a) make us all cringe or (b) trigger our grossly competitive natures. We require alcohol. That’s it; it’s pretty simple.
But whenever possible, people like to come to the P&D offices for meetings. It’s for the exact reason I can see Libby occasionally looking out through the glass walls of the room: she’s hoping to spot a celebrity.
Unfortunately for her, she sees only Justin, who peeks his head in about five minutes into things.
“Jett Payne is here; he’s waiting for us upstairs. Also, Kylie wanted me to let you know that she overordered for the break room Keurig, and you’re free to take a box or two home.”
Carter stands with a smile. “Thanks, Justin.”
My jaw drops.
“You double booked?” I ask him, wearing a tight fuck you smile of my own.
“I guess I did. Sorry about that,” he says, as if it were purely accidental and he’s not meticulous about his calendar. He stands, reaching forward to shake Libby’s hand. “Great to meet you, Libby. Evie can handle the rest of the discussion. And make sure she validates your parking. Looking forward to what you two have planned!”
Libby, a little breathless, overexclaims, “It will be great!”
• • •
About an hour later I wrap up the meeting with Libby—still fuming—and head back to my office while checking the rest of today’s schedule on my phone.
